


Quentin Beck Falls in Love

by orphan_account



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, My First MCU Fic, No Sex, No Underage Sex, Not Canon Compliant, Quentin doesn't die because seriously why tf would you kill him smh, how FFH would have gone if I'd written it, like skrrr hard swerve away from canon, quentin is a good guy, told from Quentin's POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2021-02-18 02:44:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21620542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Quentin Beck had a plan to take back everything Tony Stark took from him. That plan fell to pieces the second he met Peter Parker. In that second, Quentin fell in love with Peter’s beautiful soul. Peter brought out the best in Quentin, and as it turned out, Quentin was good for Peter as well.
Relationships: Quentin Beck/Peter Parker
Kudos: 98





	1. A Plan Gone to Hell

I had long known Tony Stark was nothing more than book smart, completely lacking in ethics and good decision-making skills. When I found out Spider-man was just a fucking teenage kid from New York, it drove the point home even further. _This_ is who the great Iron Man chose to join the Avengers? What a fucking joke. Well, I was glad Tony Stark was such an idiot during his time in the mortal realm, as manipulation of the child Avenger became central to my plan to take back everything Stark took from me.

The second I met Peter, my entire plan went to hell. I could see exactly what Stark saw in him. Peter was beautiful – I don’t mean that in a sexual way, or at least, I didn’t at the time. I mean he had a beautiful _soul_. He was powerful and had so much potential, but unlike Stark, he didn’t let it go to his head. He was humble and honest to a fault. He was transparent, wearing every thought and emotion on his sleeve. He was at once pure as a newborn and wise beyond his years, both likely the result of the losses he survived early in life. I wanted to be there for him as he discovered who he was and who he wanted to be.

“I…I just wanna be a normal teenager,” Peter told Fury, the conflict between his own desires and duty on full display on his face. As he walked away, being the good kid he was, he added politely, “Sorry, I’m not going.”

“It wasn’t a request, Parker!” Fury called after him, using his typical ‘stick’ method of getting people to do his bidding.

That left an opening for me to use the ‘carrot’ method. I placed a gentle hand on Fury’s arm and offered kindly, “I’ll talk to him.”

Fury nodded and turned away, shaking his head in annoyance at a teenager for acting like a teenager.

I found Peter leaning back in an office chair, looking as if the weight of the world was his alone to carry. He saw me and quickly sat up straight and started apologizing to me. “Oh, hey, Mr. Beck. I, uh… Look, I’m really sorry, I want to help, I really do, but I’m only in high school _once_ , and I only get to take trips with my friends like this _once_. In just a couple years, we’ll all go our separate ways. Who…who knows if we’ll even stay in touch once we go off to college and get married and have kids…”

He sighed, and it was the weightiest sigh ever. It was charming and moving. I wanted to gather him up in my arms and console him. I wanted to nuzzle my nose into his soft curls and tell him everything’s going to be ok. But I held back, as that would have been too out-of-character for the ‘Quentin Beck’ image I was selling. Instead, I leaned my ass against the desk across from him and said tenderly, “First off, it’s not ‘Mr. Beck’; it’s Quentin. And don’t apologize. I would feel the same way in your position.”

He visibly relaxed, like I had just taken the weight of a couple continents off his shoulders. “Th-thanks, Mr. Beck – _er_ , Q-Quentin.”

He was adorable, and I was melting into a puddle of joy, just from being in his presence. I wanted him to be happy and live his own life, and I would have abandoned my entire plan and let him, except that would have meant he’d be out of my life, and I didn’t want that. I subtly pushed a little more, to see if I could change his mind. With a faraway look in my eyes, I said, “When I was your age, I lost a lot of people I cared about to the elementals. Years later, I was married and had a family of my own. I thought I could live my life the way I wanted, but then the elementals came back, and I lost everyone all over again.”

I feigned being choked-up and concluded solemnly, “If it’s in my power to stop it, I won’t let anyone else experience that loss, ever again.”

He was now looking down at his knees and making a guilty face.

I pressed a bit further. “I only hope the elementals don’t all attack at once…”

I pretended to catch myself being passive-aggressive, which I definitely was being. I sighed and apologized, “Ah, I’m sorry, Peter. I’m not trying to guilt trip you. Go, have fun with your classmates.”

I gave him a smile, and he gave me the cutest pout in return. “I…I don’t want you to have to fight the elementals alone…”

He was taking all of ‘Quentin Beck’s’ burdens on as his own! It was so damn cute! I gave one final reverse-psychology push. I leaned over and put a reassuring hand on his knee. “I won’t be fighting alone, Peter. I have Director Fury and all of S.H.I.E.L.D. backing me up.”

My words of assurance only seemed to cause him more distress. How little faith did he have in S.H.I.E.L.D.? I wondered. He gnawed on his lip and frowned, like he had just been asked to choose between watching his best friend or his aunt get beheaded. After a minute, in a move that appeared to take the sum of his entire strength, he looked up and made eye contact. He stated resolutely, “I’ll go, Mr. B – _er_ , Quentin. I’ll help you.”

I made a concerned face that wasn’t entirely contrived. “Are you sure, Peter? What about your trip and spending time with your friends?”

He fidgeted with his hands and broke eye contact as he answered, “Like you said, if it’s in my power to help, I have to help. What if…What if I don’t help, and someone I care about gets hurt?”

I was so thrilled, I wanted to jump up and down and squeal like a little kid. Instead, I treated him patronizingly, as if I was having to fake seeing him as an equal, though that was far from the case. I held out a hand and told him, “I feel good about my chances this time, having you on my side.”

He took the hand awkwardly, in kind of a ‘bro’ handshake, and he nodded.

My crew was ecstatic to hear of my success in talking Spider-man into joining the faux fray. They were less than ecstatic when I told them the plan had changed. The original plan carried far too much risk of hurting my precious Peter Parker. Something I mentioned merely for the purposes of manipulating Peter gave me an idea for how to minimize the risk.

“What the fuck, Quentin?” one of the bitter former Stark pee-ons barked at me, “We had this plan nailed down, and now you want us to change it, so all the elementals attack at once?”

Another chimed in, “Until you get EDITH, I’m not sure we have the resources to pull this off.”

“Shut the fuck up, all of you!!!” At this, they cut the chatter. Realizing I may have lost my cool a bit, I took a deep breath and said calmly, “Make each of the elementals smaller and less powerful. It will still seem plenty impressive to anyone watching.”

As per the new choreography, I exaggerated a light injury, grasping my shoulder and screaming, _“Aaughhh!”_

“Beck, what’s your status?” Maria Hill questioned through my earpiece.

 _“Agh,”_ I groaned, for maximum effect, and said through gritted teeth, “I’m fine, but I could use some reinforcements.”

“Spider-man is less than a minute out.”

“Good to hear!” I shouted, as I performed the motions of weakly attacking one of the elementals.

As I hoped, the portion of the choreography where one of the elementals threw me into a wall came just in time for Spider-man’s arrival on the scene. He attacked the elemental, keeping it from ‘finishing me off,’ and caught me as my limp body plummeted toward the ground, helmetless head first. Carrying me like a helpless damsel, he thwipped a web to a nearby building and swung us up to the roof. He sat me down gently, sitting on folded legs and putting himself in place as a human pillow. He stroked superhero-costume-covered fingers through my hair and said with concern, “Mr. – Quentin…”

I let myself enjoy the moment as long as the fight choreography allowed, then I ‘woke up.’ I blinked and looked up at his masked face. I said blearily, “Peter…?”

I could almost see through his mask the relieved smile he gave. He said, “Sorry I’m late.”

“It’s ok,” I assured, with a ‘pained’ smile.

“Are you hurt?”

I cradled my ‘injured’ arm and faked faking a smile. “I’m fine. Help me up?”

He did, reluctantly. He was so chivalrous. I was sure he wanted me to rest while he took care of the ‘baddies’ all alone, but I wanted to impress him, too. I stood and ‘caught my breath.’ I gave him a look meant to convey strength and solidarity and said, “I’m good now, thanks. Are you ready to take care of these guys?”

He nodded. I put my helmet back up, and we went to it. The choreography was perfect, perhaps because he was an inexperienced fighter who took far too many predictable cues from Iron Man and Captain America. After about ten minutes, the elementals had all been ‘defeated.’

Always the perfect gentleman, Peter escorted me back to S.H.I.E.L.D.’s local base of operations.

As I sat shirtless in a chair and received treatment for the ‘injury’ to my arm, Peter chewed on a thumbnail and stared at his own restless feet. When the S.H.I.E.L.D. lackey finished caring for me and walked away, Peter drew his eyes toward me, making eye contact without actually turning his face up.

I looked back at him through his adorable eyelashes and smiled. “Thanks for your help out there. You did really good, kid.”

Gesturing awkwardly toward my arm, he asked, “Is…Is your arm ok?”

I looked down at what was in reality just a bruise and said, “What? This? It’s fine.”

For good measure, I patted the bruise with my other hand and grimaced in response.

This made him smile and chuckle a bit, which made me incredibly happy.

I changed the subject, because I genuinely wanted to know. “So, what’s next for you?”

His shoulders bowed as the weight of the world settled back down on them. His gorgeous smile fled, replaced with worry. He shook his head and answered quietly, “I don’t know.”

“What do you _want_ to do?”

He sighed and flopped down in a nearby chair. “I don’t know. I want to stay with the Avengers, but…”

He shook his head, clearly overwhelmed with conflicting thoughts and emotions.

“But what?” I prompted, slipping a t-shirt over my head, “Isn’t that every kid’s dream, to join the Avengers?”

“It _was_ …but then, we all came back from the snap…oh, uh, you don’t know about that, I guess, because maybe, like, your version of the universe doesn’t have a Thanos or something…”

I stopped him from going off on too much of a tangent. “It’s ok. I know basically what happened. Keep going.”

“Right. Well, we came back from the snap, and I thought everything could go back to normal once Thanos was defeated, but…but then…then Mr. Stark…” He looked like he was about to cry.

I fucking hated Tony Stark, so I didn’t sympathize. I was not only glad Tony Stark was dead, I wished I had killed him with my own hands, years earlier. I stuffed away my hatred and gently asked, “Stark really meant a lot to you, didn’t he?”

He shook his head yes and swiped at his eyes.

Dammit, it was so hard to see my precious Peter hurting. I wanted to make him feel better. I told him, “It’s good to have someone to look up to, someone who inspires you, someone who ignites inside you a spark of life. But you can’t live for that person forever. You eventually have to find your own way, your own reasons for being, your own motivation for what you do with your life. You can always remember Tony Stark and everything he did for you, but he would hate to see you let your life grind to a halt because he’s gone.”

He nodded, and I couldn’t stop myself from touching him. I got up and ruffled his hair a bit. “It’s ok. You don’t have to decide right now what you want to do with your life, even if Fury or anyone else tries to force you to.”

Good lord, his hair was so damn soft, despite still being slightly matted from being inside his Spidey costume. I wanted to touch his hair forever. Actually, I wanted to touch more of him, and so I did. I bent down and gave him a one-armed hug, patting him on the back. I was afraid if I did any more than that, I would end up pushing it too far. I ended the hug before it got awkward.

“Thanks,” he caught himself before he called me ‘Mr. Beck’, “Quentin. What’s next for you?”

I was glad I had thoroughly rehearsed the lie I prepared, because my mind was filled only with my desire to have Peter Parker near me. “I’m going back to my own earth in a few days. Maybe we could go out for drinks before I go? Ah, by ‘drinks,’ I mean soda or whatever.”

He smiled a sad smile, and I was both crushed to see him unhappy and glad to see him upset at the thought of me leaving. “Yeah, uh… Day after tomorrow? Meet up with me here at 2:00?”

I nodded, and he got up and walked out.

I was shocked to find myself reflecting on my own words about Tony Stark. I realized all the things I told Peter applied to me as well, in a slightly different light. For years, Tony Stark was the driving force behind everything I did, but that asshole was dead and not coming back. It was laughable that he was still my sole motivation in life. To paraphrase myself, I could always remember Tony Stark and the way he fucked me over, but I shouldn’t let my life grind to a halt because of him. If Stark knew the lengths I’d gone to because of him, he would have given a smug smirk and sipped on his goddamned 20-year Scotch while slipping his hand up his secretary-turned-CEO-turned-eventual-widow’s skirt.

“Gather up, gather up!” I told my crew.

They turned their attention toward me.

“Everything is coming into place for us.” I pointed both of my index fingers toward myself and said triumphantly, “You are looking at ‘Mysterio,’ the most recent addition to the Avengers!”

I added with a shit-eating grin, “Well, at least once I tell Fury that upon careful consideration, I have accepted his offer.”

The crew cheered and high-fived in celebration of my flat-out lie. Fury had neither the authority to make nor any interest in making me such an offer.

I popped a bottle of good champagne, poured a glass, and said, “All of our hard work has paid off! We will topple the last vestiges of the empire Tony Stark built on our backs, from the inside!”

I held the champagne glass out toward my crew and said, “To finally being recognized as the smartest motherfuckers in the room!”

The crew toasted to themselves, polished off the good champagne, and partied all night. It never occurred to any of the self-professed ‘smartest motherfuckers in the room’ that the person who was so adept at lying and earning the misplaced trust of S.H.I.E.L.D. and Spider-man might have lied to them.

The day after my crew celebrated their impending ‘victory’ over a dead former employer, we packed up and headed back to the United States, ready to begin the next phase of our plan. At least, that’s what they thought was happening.

It’s good to have competent people working for you, but sometimes it’s necessary to know how to do things yourself. I was glad I had learned how to program the drones and holographic projectors myself and set up a failsafe plan. It’s also nice that European cities often have a series of old tunnels running beneath them.

I made it appear to the crew as though we had gone to the airport, flown over the Atlantic, and landed on U.S. soil, only to be arrested by the CIA in the middle of LaGuardia. The ‘CIA’ transported ‘us’ (my crew, plus a holographic ‘me’) to a holding room in an undisclosed location. In reality, my crew only ever made it about a quarter kilometer from their original location, being led through tunnels that connected our home base to an abandoned wine cellar.

The ‘CIA’ told ‘us’ ‘we’ were being detained under suspicion of perpetrating terrorist activity on foreign soil. They demanded to know who the leader was, and ‘I’ bravely stepped up and claimed ‘I’ was the lone perpetrator of the terror attack and that my crew had no idea what ‘I’ had done. My crew predictably kept their mouths shut and let ‘me’ take the fall. ‘I’ was dragged into the next room, where my crew listened in horror as ‘I’ was subjected to violent torture and interrogation. They pressed their faces to the tiny window in the door of their holding room and watched as ‘my’ bloody, lifeless body was dragged down the hallway past them.

Suddenly, they were willing to do anything to avoid ‘my’ fate. The truth spilled from them as easily as they exhaled. They all took plea bargains and agreed to life imprisonment rather than risk losing their lives, the way ‘I’ had.

I hacked into the necessary law enforcement systems and planted records of their arrests, guilty pleas, and sentences, conveniently leaving out the number of times each of them threw ‘the late Quentin Beck’ under the bus in their statements. I then kicked off a notification within S.H.I.E.L.D., dispatching some nobodies to find my crew in the European wine cellar where they were being held in secret by the ‘CIA.’ Following instructions properly, the S.H.I.E.L.D. nobodies tranquilized my crew, keeping them from figuring out where they were, and transported them to the Raft. Finally, I destroyed all of my equipment. I programmed my drones to bury themselves at the bottom of the North Sea.

My plan for revenge on Tony Stark was officially no more.


	2. EDITH

While my crew and a holographic ‘me’ were in the middle of the illusion of a flight over the Atlantic, I was having a soda with Peter Parker. In my original plan, this was going to happen in a fake bar, and I was going to charm him into handing me EDITH, but I had long thrown that plan out the window.

He fiddled with the ostentatious AI sunglasses and told me all about Stark leaving them to him and that he had already misused EDITH and almost accidentally blown up a bus full of innocent school kids, himself included. He voiced his lack of self-confidence and his related confusion about what Stark saw in him.

I knew exactly what Stark saw in him, and I told him. “Peter, all the things you think of as flaws are actually your strengths. You’re torn between going everywhere S.H.I.E.L.D. tells you to and living life like a normal high school kid. You see it as indecisiveness or lack of commitment on your part, but that’s not how I see it. You care about the Avengers, and you care about your school friends, and you care about humanity. You care about everyone. That speaks to the size of your heart. Most people only have the capacity to care about a small handful of people. Some people’s hearts only have room for themselves. You carry this entire planet – probably the entire multiverse – in your heart.”

He shook his head, still full of self-doubt. “Maybe…but I’m not strong enough to take care of everyone. I’m always going to let someone down. If I stick with my friends, I might not be there when people need my help. If I go wherever I’m told, I’m not there if Ned or MJ or Aunt May needs me.”

“I understand, but you can’t think of it that way. It’s not that you lack strength. It’s that you’re _human_. We can only be one place at any given point in time. Trust yourself to know where and with whom your time is best spent.”

He nodded, though I could tell he still wasn’t convinced his lack of ability to please everyone wasn’t a reflection of some fault of his, so I continued, “You don’t have to make years’ worth of decisions right now. Maybe you’ll start out thinking you want to finish high school and college as a normal kid before going off to be a superhero, but you might change your mind. Maybe you’ll find you can rock college and some friendly neighborhood web-slinging at the same time.”

At that, he actually smiled.

“Maybe you’ll decide you never want to be part of a superhero team, or maybe you’ll end up leading the Avengers. The point is, you don’t have to decide right now.”

He exhaled the breath he was holding, like I had told him exactly what he needed to hear. I was relieved to see his mood lighten up, but I was also pissed, as it seemed no one else had told a sixteen-year-old kid that he doesn’t have to decide this instant how he’s going to spend every minute of every day of every year of the next half-century.

“Thanks, Quentin.” He bit his bottom lip and looked down at the sunglasses again. “I do need to decide what I’m going to do with these right now.”

“What do you want to do with them?”

He looked up at me, and I thought I might drown in his beautiful brown eyes. “I want…” he held EDITH out toward me, “I want to give them to you.”

This was exactly how the original plan was supposed to go, but my new plan had a singular goal: Peter Parker’s happiness. I put my hand on the sunglasses-bearing hand he was holding out toward me and gently pushed back toward him. “Tell me what EDITH means to you, Peter.”

He looked down at the sunglasses again and said, “What EDITH means… I don’t know… I’m scared I’m going to hurt someone… but Mr. Stark left these to me…”

He appeared to be elsewhere, thinking about Stark. I pulled him back by placing a hand on his knee. “Ok, let’s unpack those one at a time. Stark left EDITH to you. If you give EDITH to me, years down the road, will you look back and have no regrets about turning over the last thing Stark left you to someone else?”

“I…” he looked down, “I guess not.”

“And you’re afraid of accidentally hurting people with EDITH. Doesn’t that say more about how dangerous the technology is than whether or not you’re responsible enough to wield it?”

He had to really think about that one. Finally, he argued, “But it could be used to help people…”

“Sure, it could. Or it could be used to blow up a bus full of innocent school kids.”

He shook his head, the dilemma making him furrow his eyebrows cutely. “What are you telling me to do?”

“Peter, I’m not telling you to do anything. I’m here at your side, trying to help you make a decision you’ll look back on and smile about. I don’t know what the right answer is. I only know the answer isn’t handing EDITH to the nearest seemingly responsible adult.”

He laughed again, and I laughed with him. His laugh was infectious like that.

“You’re a responsible adult, Quentin,” he assured me.

“I’m an adult, but I don’t want to commit to always behaving responsibly in front of you.” I was kind of flirting, and I really, really wanted to flirt with him more, but I needed to finish helping him first, so I went back to being serious. “Let’s approach it this way: Pretend I’m the one Stark left EDITH to, and I’ve come to you for advice on what to do. I tell you I’m afraid of what EDITH can do; I don’t want to hurt people. I also tell you EDITH holds sentimental value for me. It’s the last gift given me by my dear, departed mentor. What advice do you have for me? What do you think I should do?”

“You should keep her, because of the sentimental value; like, she can’t be replaced.”

The way he referred to the piece of technology as ‘her’ and ‘she’ was the most disarming thing I’d ever heard.

As he continued thinking, I could almost see the gears turning in his head. “But if the drones she controls are dangerous, you can…I mean, I suppose they can be disabled.”

I was so proud of him. With very little coaching, he came to a mature conclusion on his own. I smiled and nodded.

That pushed him to continue, “And I guess you shouldn’t use EDITH for stuff like deleting photos from other people’s cell phones…”

I chuckled. “What? Did you do that?”

“No! … Yes.” He blushed and, to my delight, offered up the entire story, “It’s this damn kid in my class. Last time I saw him, he was eleven years old, and then suddenly he was grown up and in my grade! The chick S.H.I.E.L.D. sent to pick me up started stripping me, and this stupid kid walked in and snapped a photo of what looked like me hooking up with a random older woman…”

The story was funnier than I was expecting. I covered my mouth, to keep from laughing too boisterously.

“It’s not funny, Quentin! That’s how I ended up almost blowing up the bus!”

“Sorry, but it totally is funny, Peter.” I forced myself to stop laughing and asked, “But seriously, how would you keep yourself from using EDITH unethically?”

“She seems to follow all my commands. I think I can just tell her to only follow commands if a life is in danger.”

I put a hand on his shoulder and told him, “See? You’re incredibly responsible. This is why EDITH was left in your capable hands.”

“Wait! How do I destroy the drones?”

“Ask EDITH if they have a self-destruct mechanism.”

“Ooh, good idea.” Peter slipped on Stark’s pretentious sunglasses and said, “EDITH, do your drones have a self-destruct mechanism?”

I was unable to hear the AI, though it seemed the answer was yes.

He continued questioning, “Is it, um…destructive? Like, do they blow up, or what?”

He took the sunglasses off and told me, “They have a self-destruct mechanism that destroys their internal circuitry.”

“Good. So, tell her to have them bury themselves at the bottom of the North Sea and self-destruct.”

He put the sunglasses on again, cleared his throat, and parroted my words, “EDITH, send all your drones to the Black Sea. Have them bury themselves at the bottom, and then have them self-destruct.”

He waited for acknowledgement from EDITH, then he took the sunglasses off and smiled wide. I could tell he was happy and relieved to have put some of his worries to rest, which in turn made me happy…a little _too_ happy, perhaps, because before I knew it, I had my hand on the back of his head and was pressing my lips against his.

For a split-second, he relaxed into the kiss, like he wanted it, but then he stiffened and pulled away.

I felt like such an idiot. I hadn’t planned to make this big of a move so soon. “Ah, shit, Peter. I’m sorry. I…”

He squirmed away and stammered out a series of excuses for me. “No, it’s fine, really. I just didn’t know…that you were like that…uh…you know…because I…I’m not…I like girls, so…”

“I normally like women too, but…” At this point, I had already fucked up enough that it wouldn’t matter if I buried myself six feet deep or seven. “Fuck it. I’ll just say it. I like you, Peter. A lot. In a few minutes, I’ll leave for my earth, and I won’t ever see you again. I just wanted to kiss you one time, while I still could.”

I thought I better leave before I scared the kid completely shitless. Maybe I could come ‘back’ to ‘his earth’ for a visit, years down the road, and I wanted to have a shot with him then. I concluded the conversation like an adult who possessed an iota of self-control. Standing, I said, “You’re a good kid, Peter. Trust your heart. It will serve you well. Take care.”

I started to walk away, but I felt a tug on the back of my shirt. I stopped and turned around.

Peter had stood up to stop me. He stuffed his hands in his pockets awkwardly and cast his eyes down toward my feet. So quietly I had to strain to hear him, he asked, “Are you ever coming back? Even just…to visit?”

This kid was going to be the death of me, I just knew it. How was I supposed to walk away when he was acting so adorable? Remaining stoic, I answered, “Maybe. I’ll be gone for a while, though.”

“Um, next school year…I don’t know what day, exactly, but probably sometime in May, I’ll graduate from high school. If…if you could come to the graduation ceremony, that would be really nice.”

I stepped forward, slowly and unthreateningly, and hugged Peter. I then kissed him on the forehead and said, “I’ll see what I can do.”

It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but I walked away from him.

I spent the next nearly two years and the rest of my nest egg meticulously scrubbing all records of myself from ‘this’ earth. I cleared out anything that tied me to Stark Industries or any of its current or former employees, including those who were presumably still rotting away in the Raft. When I ‘came back’ to ‘this’ earth, I wanted it to be with a completely clean slate.


	3. Homecoming

“Aw, sweetie, I’m so proud of you!” I overheard a woman say to Peter while hugging him.

“Thanks, Aunt May,” Peter said to her, and I nearly fainted, just seeing him and hearing his voice again after so long.

The hug ended, and the man standing next to Aunt May shook hands with Peter and said, “Congratulations, Peter.”

“Thanks, Happy.”

“Are you going to come to dinner with us, Peter?” May asked.

“Uh, no, I have plans with friends.”

“Oh. Well, have fun. Tell Ned hello for us.”

“Yep, will do, Aunt May. Enjoy your dinner,” Peter called, as the couple walked away. I wasn’t sure he had noticed me, but he then walked directly toward me. He had grown a little, and he looked more like an adult, but he was still the person I had fallen for two years prior, looking handsome in his cap and gown. He held out a hand and said, “Hello, Quentin.”

I felt a bit heartbroken to be greeted with a handshake, but for all I knew, he had a girlfriend or something. Just because I was hoping to be greeted with a kiss didn’t mean it was realistic for me to expect it. I shook his hand and said, “Congratulations, Peter. I was hoping to talk to you, but it sounds like you have plans with friends?”

He scratched his nose and admitted, “Oh…that. Yeah, that was a lie. I saw you during the ceremony, and I wanted to spend time with you, so I told my friends I was having dinner with May and Happy, and I told May and Happy I was having dinner with friends.”

I couldn’t help the huge smile that took over my lips. “You saw me during the ceremony?”

He grinned and said, “You’re the only guy who’s ever kissed me. You kind of stuck in my mind.”

The way he spoke boldly, without fidgeting with his hands or looking down at his shoes, made me think he might have found more self-confidence. I could only hope.

“I’m starving,” he declared, putting a hand on his stomach. “Do you want to go to dinner? I know a place where you can get two slices of pizza and a soda for $5.”

He was charming and fun, and I was remembering all over again why I fell in love with him. I would have gone anywhere he asked, but I was down for affordable pizza. “Sounds good.”

In the middle of eating two giant slices of top-notch New York style pizza, Peter asked, “How long are you here?”

“For good.”

Peter nearly choked on his pizza. He apparently had assumed I was only visiting. His eyes lit up. He turned toward me and asked, “For real?!”

I nodded, and he said excitedly, “That’s awesome!!”

He leaned in toward me, and my heart skipped a beat. He whispered, “Do you want to form a crime-fighting duo with me?”

Then he literally winked at me, and I almost fell off my chair.

I kept my cool, though, and said, “Nope. I’m a normal guy now. I gave all that up. Part of the deal for coming here permanently.”

His eyes went wide, and he nodded a few times, taking in my fabrication. “Wow. So, what are you going to do?”

“That’s a good question. I think my first step is to get a job. I talked to S.H.I.E.L.D., and they said there never was a Quentin Beck here, so they’re going to cook up a birth certificate, passport, driver’s license, and some education and work history, as a thank-you for helping with the elementals. Step two, I suppose, is finding a permanent place to live. I can live off of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s stipend for a while, but I’ll get tired of living out of a suitcase. I assume rent in New York is still crazy expensive?”

Peter nodded and rolled his eyes. Once he finished chewing and swallowed, he said, “So expensive. I’m looking for a place of my own, because Happy moved in with us, and it’s…a bit much for me. I’ve been trying to find a roommate, but Ned is moving in with Betty, and MJ is moving in with Brad. For now, I’ll just sleep with earplugs in, so I don’t have to hear what May and Happy do in the next room over.”

I chuckled. “Sounds rough. Well, if you could put up with a roommate who might occasionally try to kiss you, I know someone who’s willing.”

He had just taken another bite, but he stopped chewing. I felt like an ass. I must have taken the flirting too far. I held my hands up innocently and said, “Joking! Just joking!”

He held an index finger up and recommenced chewing. He swallowed and took a gulp of soda, then he replied, “I found a one-bedroom apartment I really like. It’s decent-sized and in a good neighborhood, but to afford it, I would need a roommate. I would ask you, but would you be able to keep your hands and lips to yourself if we shared a bed?”

I had run out of energy to continue lying to him. I answered honestly, “No.”

A corner of his mouth turned up, and he asked, “Quentin Beck, would you like to rent an apartment with me?”

I gave him a playful shove in retaliation for his nearly giving me a heart attack. “What are you trying to do to me? I thought you were upset with me for flirting with you.”

He grinned and laughed. “Nah. Like I said, your kiss stuck with me.”

The next day, Peter and I put a deposit down on the apartment. I blew the rest of my S.H.I.E.L.D. stipend by ordering a bed and bedding.

Three weeks later, we moved in, and the bed was delivered. Peter and I made the bed together, and it was the most domestic goddamned thing I’d ever done in my life. Contrary to the backstory I gave everyone, I never was married. I worked for that prick Stark, and work was my life, my home, and my lover.

Once the bed was made, we spent a minute deciding who got which side.

“I’d like the side closer to the window, so I can go out and do my Spider-man thing at night.”

I crossed my arms and acted butt-hurt. “Oh, I see. We won’t really be sharing a bed at all, because you’ll be out web-slinging all night.”

“I won’t stay out _all_ night,” he countered, “If I did, how would I run the risk of having you climb on top of me and kiss me in the middle of the night?”

I smirked and raised an eyebrow. “Are you flirting with me, Peter Parker? You might be sorry if you do that.”

“Maybe.” He smirked back and climbed onto the bed seductively, taunting, “Why don’t you get on this bed with me and _make_ me sorry?”

I had officially run out of ability to hold back. I got onto the bed and did exactly as he suggested I might, straddling his legs and framing his head with my arms. I kissed him, gently and on the lips, but I wanted so much more. I pulled back and asked, “Are you sorry yet?”

“No,” he answered.

My wildest dreams came true when he put his hand on the back of my neck and pulled me down into an open-mouth kiss.

Our tongues touched, and I actually fucking _moaned_. I was mortified, or I would have been, if I hadn’t been feeling too good to think straight. I took one of my hands down the length of his torso and reached under his shirt, touching soft skin. I ran fingertips across the surface, fascinated with the light dusting of body hair and the way his rippling muscles twitched under my touch. It was wonderful but hard to concentrate on, with the way his tongue was making love to mine. I felt a twinge of jealousy. How many people had he done this with, anyway?

I broke the kiss and asked, “How experienced are you?”

He blushed hard and answered, “I slept with a girl…a couple times.”

I was asking about his experience with _kissing_ , but in hindsight, I could see why he assumed I was asking about his experience with sex. Now that the misunderstanding happened, it seemed like a good time to figure out where the line in the sand was. I asked the question clearly. “How far can I go tonight?”

He somehow managed to blush on top of blushing. “You’re wanting to…put it in…me?”

Those words went straight to the already-prominent tent in my jeans. “I would love to, but I only will if you want me to.”

“Not…uh…not _never_ , but…not tonight.”

It was a completely understandable response. If it had been left entirely up to me, I would have gone all the way, but I wasn’t the one up against taking it for the first time. I nodded and asked, “Can I touch you?”

He practically giggled, and it felt like Cupid’s arrow going through my heart. Motioning his head toward the hand under his shirt, he pointed out, “You’re _already_ touching me, Quentin.”

Hoping he would catch my meaning, I asked, “No, I mean, can I _touch_ _you_?”

I had been holding myself up, keeping some distance between our bodies, but I lowered myself down on him, so we could _feel_ each other. He had super strength. He could take the weight on top of him.

He glanced down, in the general direction of our crotches, and then looked back up at me, mouth agape. “Holy shit. How big is your dick?!”

I facepalmed. I couldn’t help but laugh. I thought I was so damn smooth, with my bed-buying and constant subtle flirting, but this was going so much more awkwardly than I had pictured. Turning my head toward him, so I wasn’t speaking into a pillow, I answered his question. “You’re welcome to find out, anytime you like.”

I started laughing again, and then he started laughing. I rolled off him, and he rolled onto his side, to face me.

“I think I get the general idea already,” he said, laughing and holding up an arm, “I think it’s bigger than my forearm!”

Once our laughing fit ended, he said, “We can touch each other like that, just…not tonight.”

I ruffled his hair. It was as soft as I remembered.

“No rush,” I assured. I kissed him softly on the lips and reiterated, “I will never rush you or pressure you, Peter.”

“I know you won’t,” he said, smiling at me. He ran fingers through my hair, and it felt so soothing and relaxing. “Thank you, Quentin, for everything. Back when we met, you were the only person who didn’t try to control me and tell me what to do. You really listened to me, and it broke me out of the teen angst funk I was in. I learned to be more confident and stand up for myself.”

Hearing those words made me so, so glad I chucked my Tony Stark revenge plans. If I hadn’t, I would have missed out on having my hair stroked by the man I cherish. I would have never seen him grow up to be the happy adult I knew he could be, and I wouldn’t have heard him thank me for being the only person who viewed his powered sixteen-year-old self as a real human being. Shit, I’d probably be dead today, if I had pursued my plan.

I shared a fraction of my feelings with him. “ _I_ should be thanking _you_. I was in a really bad place when we met. I would have gone down a dark path if I hadn’t met you. You brought light and optimism back into my life. You saved me.”

I was hesitant to say more. I didn’t want to scare him off, but the emotion was practically spilling out of me. Before I could stop it, the words came out. “I love you, Peter.”

I stopped breathing in that moment. I waited for the proverbial axe to fall, but it never did.

Instead, those brown eyes I love gazed into my eyes, and he told me with no shame or hesitation, “I love you too, Quentin.”


End file.
